


Finish What You Started

by Wolfarella



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bottom Chuck Hansen, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfarella/pseuds/Wolfarella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years have passed since Operation Pitfall, and on a trip to China with his father, Chuck happens to run into Raleigh one evening. Naturally, he ends up embarrassing the hell out of himself because he's a bit drunk, but they’re older than they were, more mature, and for as much as things stay the same, enough has changed so that it might just work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finish What You Started

**Author's Note:**

> This story's plot is so basic and simple that it might as well not even be there at all, but I've had this fic in mind ever since the first time I saw the movie -- I just got distracted by other stuff. As with everything I write, this is dedicated to Tara, my beautiful co-pilot, for both listening to me whine about needing to finish it, and for being my guinea pig and reading it first. <3 
> 
> (( _very_ brief mentions of Stacker/Herc, Newt/Hannibal, and Mako/OFC~))

It’s pathetic, really.

Chuck sits alone, nursing a beer and staring into the wide mirror behind the bar. Most likely because it’s a Friday, the little dive is busier than you’d expect, but Chuck’s only got his eyes on one person. Raleigh Becket is at a table a little towards the back, lounging casually in his chair like he belongs there, and he’s got a drink in one of his hands, resting lazily on one of his knees. He’s the same good old American boy that he was before, radiating charm and confidence without even needing to try, even from across the bar.

And Chuck can’t stop staring.

It’s just his luck that the first bar he goes to is the one that Raleigh happens to be at. Of all the people he could have possibly run into in Shenzhen, it _has_ to be Raleigh.

“Bastard,” Chuck says under his breath, before he throws back the rest of his beer. He signals for the bartender, and she gives him a once-over as she pours another for him. He knows that look. She’s trying to figure out how she knows him, why he looks familiar to her. And he’s used to such a reaction. The war’s over; finished by one Gipsy Danger, because no matter the part Striker Eureka played in it, it was Gipsy who saved the day -- so why should anyone care about Jaeger pilots who weren’t Raleigh or Mako anymore? Especially when they were assholes like Chuck Hansen.

He’s kind of a nobody now.

His gaze finds Raleigh in the mirror again. He looks the exact same, seems like he hasn’t aged a day in the years that have passed since the Breach had been closed -- with his messy blond hair and _stupid_ lopsided smile. A smile that’s currently aimed at a man who’s standing beside the table, a smile that makes Chuck’s chest feel funny, even after all of this time.

Pathetic.

Even more pathetic than Chuck himself, however, is the man chatting up Raleigh. It’s obvious even to Chuck that Raleigh isn’t interested in what’s being said, is only being polite, but this guy seems persistent. Chuck grumps to himself, burying himself in his new beer -- his fifth tonight, and by the looks of it, there were going to be _plenty_ more. He doesn’t know who he’s more jealous of: Raleigh or his suitor. Ever since the war had ended, the Jaeger Program slipping into near obscurity and talked about only when the UN wanted to pat themselves on the back for what they liked to pretend was their doing, Chuck had been… well, lonely. So yeah, maybe he’d chew someone out were they to actually approach him in a bar like this, but… that doesn’t mean he doesn’t sometimes wish they would.

He chugs the rest of his most recent beer, getting a wary look from the bartender, although he doesn’t notice -- he’s too busy watching Raleigh. Raleigh still looks uninterested, but his admirer still isn’t taking the hint. He’s a smarmy-looking bloke -- much, much older than Raleigh, it seems like -- and Chuck doesn’t at all like how he keeps moving closer. Any closer and he’ll be lying across the damn table, he thinks. And though Raleigh seems to be pretending to listen to him out of courtesy, he looks a little uncomfortable, and Chuck doesn’t like that either. And the longer he watches, the more he hates it.

He doesn’t realize how angry he actually is until he happens to glance down and see that he’s clutching his empty glass so hard that his knuckles are turning white. He stares at his hand for a long moment, thoughts swimming, and then, before he knows it, he’s climbing off of the bar stool and turning to make his way towards where Raleigh’s sitting. If he’d been able to think of anything other than Raleigh, he’d blame his actions on the beers, but all he can really focus on is how offended he is by this guy’s behavior -- he tells himself it’s because he doesn’t like when people are this obstinate in bars, that he’s doing Raleigh a favor, but the truth is that if he can’t hit on Raleigh, then no one else in the vicinity is allowed to either.

When he reaches the table, neither Raleigh nor the other man seem to notice him at first. So Chuck brings himself right into the man’s personal space -- which is a little bit of a challenge, considering he’s standing as close to the table, as close to Raleigh, as he can get -- and he’s loud and obnoxious in only the way a drunk person can be. “Oi -- there a problem here?” he demands.

They both turn to him -- Raleigh does a double-take, looking like some kind of a moron, and the other man looks Chuck up and down, confused. He seems a lot older than Chuck had originally thought, and when his lips curl up into a sneering smile like he finds Chuck’s rudeness amusing, he looks very similar to a ferret.

“Not at all,” he says, sounding as bad as he looks.

‘Why don’t you take a hint, then, jackass?” Chuck asks.

“ _Chuck_ ,” Raleigh says, soft and conscientious, like it’s some kind of warning.

The man looks incredulously at Raleigh as if he can’t believe he knows the angry drunk. And that, combined with the way Raleigh’s just looking up at Chuck -- careful and attentive, like he needs to look out for him and make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble -- just fuels Chuck on for some reason.

He inches closer to Raleigh’s would-be suitor, and he tells him, “Look, mate, even if you weren’t doing a shit job of selling, he ain’t buying.”

“I’m sorry, but what’s it to you?”

And before Chuck can consider his response, before he gives himself even a _second_ to think about the silly, witless words stepping up to the plate in his mind, he blurts out the only thing he can think of to stop this guy. “Well, he’s my bloody husband, now ain’t he?”

The man’s brow furrows and he turns to look at Raleigh for answers, but Raleigh’s still just staring up at Chuck from his seat. His jaw is clenched, mouth a straight line, and though his expression is completely unreadable, it’s intense. Chuck can’t tell if he’s angry or amused, though to be fair, Chuck’s too busy thinking about what a complete and utter halfwit he is for what he’d said. It isn’t like he’d intended that to be his excuse for breaking up this little conversation, but well, that’s what had wanted to come out, apparently.

“He never said --” the man begins.

“He shouldn’t have to -- it’s obvious he’s not going home with you,” Chuck pushes on, despite the way his ears are burning. “Find someone else.”

“I think --”

The beer -- and humiliation -- in Chuck reacts first, and he grabs the man by the collar of his shirt, fisting the thin material and jerking him forward. “I don’t rightly care what _you_ think,” he says. And because he’s already dug himself into this hole, and he might as well go the rest of the way, he holds up his left hand and flashes the ring that he’s wearing. It’s a simple steel band that his father had given him for his birthday a year or so ago -- he wears it because he actually kind of likes it, and partly because, in the years since Pitfall, he and Herc have been _trying_ to work on their relationship. But tonight, for all intents and purposes, it’s a wedding band. “Read it and weep, prick,” he says. And then he gives the man a shove and adds, “Now get the hell outta here already.”

The man looks back at Raleigh, seemingly waiting for some kind of rebuttal, but Raleigh is still just looking up at Chuck, unblinking. Muttering out something about how Raleigh isn’t worth it, the man turns and scurries off, and as Chuck watches, he realizes that a good portion of the bar’s patrons have stopped to watch. He puffs up his chest instinctively.

“Chuck Hansen,” Raleigh says finally, with a scoff of disbelief. He relaxes in his chair again, but his eyes remain fixed steadily on Chuck. “What’d you go and do that for?”

“He was a jackass,” Chuck says. “Even blind folks would have been able to see that.”

“Maybe I  was playing hard to get. Maybe I was planing on going home with him,” Raleigh says.

Chuck ignores the spike of anger -- jealousy -- that he feels, and he snorts unattractively. “Then you really ought to up your standards, Ray. He was a greasy bastard -- there’s practically an oil slick on the floor where he was standing.”

“That’s not very nice,” Raleigh says, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smile.

“Whatever. I’m sure the great Savior of the Battle of the Breach will have no trouble finding someone else to fawn all over him and offer their bed to him for the night.” Chuck almost regrets the words, feels stupid for behaving like such a petty child -- it’s been years, you’d think he’d have grown out of that.

Raleigh lowers his gaze, but he shrugs it off, and when he looks back at Chuck, he’s actually smiling a little. “Sure I will. Now they’re all going to be scared of being attacked by my ‘husband’ -- who’s had too much to drink, is apparently prone to violence, and hasn’t shaved in at least four weeks.”

Chuck’s face heats up even more, and he scratches embarrassedly at the beard he’s got working. He knows he must look like a joke -- the curse of some redhaired men, when your facial hair is so much brighter than the hair on your head -- and he reckons he must be a sight, all drunken and disheveled like he is. He could kick himself for not shaving, and he could kick Raleigh for deciding to be at _this specific bar_ on _this specific night_. He’d just wanted a few beers, he hadn’t wanted to run into his boyhood crush.

“What are you doing here, Hansen?” Raleigh asks.

“Not allowed to want a drink?”

Raleigh takes a long pull on his beer and swallows -- a simple motion that Chuck can’t help but to be distracted by. _Bastard_. “Not the bar -- Shenzhen. What are you doing in Shenzhen?”

“The old man wanted to visit Pentecost,” Chuck says simply. “Didn’t have anything better to do myself.”

Raleigh studies him for what feels like an eternity, looking contemplative. Finally, he asks, “How’ve you two been?”

Chuck rolls his eyes “We’re good. Peachy bloody keen. I’m not here for small talk, alright? So if you’ll excuse me….” He turns to walk away, but stops long enough to throw a peeved, “And you’re welcome,” over his shoulder.

He returns to the bar, getting stares as he goes, everyone wondering whether the drunk bearded guy’s going to start a fight, no doubt. He reclaims the stool he’d been on before, hunches his shoulders, and he gets himself another beer -- after the bartender assesses him and seems to come to the conclusion that he’s not about to explode, of course. He forces himself not to look up into the mirror again, keeps his gaze pointed downwards and he tries to pretend that Raleigh’s not there. It’s hitting him a little belatedly just exactly what he’s done, and even though he’s alone now, he blushes even harder. _Husband? Really? Of all the things you could have possibly said, you went with that?_ a voice in his mind says. He hopes desperately that Raleigh will just believe it was the beer in Chuck speaking, that he doesn’t think there’s anything more to Chuck’s words, and he drowns himself in his fresh drink to ignore the heat pulsing in his face.

He doesn’t need to reflect on how easily the lie had come out. He doesn’t have a crush on Raleigh, not anymore, at least -- that part of him had died long ago. Back when he’d realized he had no chance with someone like Raleigh, a hero.

But just in case, he reckons he should finish up and get the hell out of there before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.

As he polishes off his beer -- spilling some in his haste -- he darts a quick, final look at the mirror, and he damn near chokes, swallowing hard and hurting himself. Raleigh’s not at the table anymore, because he’s currently making his way towards Chuck, striding up to the bar with the same Becket swagger he’s always had. Chuck slams his glass down, wanting to get up and run, but he can’t bring himself to move -- just sits there uselessly.

Raleigh slides into the space between Chuck and the empty stool next to him, propping his arms on the bar and sticking his hips out all casual-like. He doesn’t say anything at first. And then, “So are you coming home with me or what?”

Chuck bites his tongue so hard that he tastes blood. He shoots Raleigh a dubious look, and though he’s inwardly freaking out, he says, “ _What_?” and manages to sound angry.

“Well, we’re married, aren’t we?”

And Chuck realizes that Raleigh’s making fun of him. Face on fire, he scowls. “Very funny. You’re _hilarious_.”

“People are probably expecting us to leave together after the scene you made,” Raleigh says with a shrug.

“Like I give a shit what other people think.”

Raleigh finally looks at him, watching him almost curiously, and Chuck stares back, even though he knows his face is bright red, the freckles standing out more than ever and making him look boyish and immature. Raleigh looks away first, lowers his gaze to glance at his hands as he plays with one of the cocktail napkins on the bar.

“So that’s a no then?” he asks.

And Chuck hates him for sounding so amused by it all. As if he isn’t embarrassed enough by his own actions, now Raleigh has to ridicule him? He snarls, “I get it, alright? I’m a bloody idiot. Cut the shit and kindly go fuck yourself.”

“And if I was serious?” Raleigh asks as Chuck gets to his feet.

Chuck panics. “Fuck off, Raleigh,” he says childishly. And without another look, he storms away, cringing inwardly at his own behavior and feeling like a complete asshat. But as he walks, he juts his chin out and squares his shoulders, and he gets out of the bar with as much dignity as he can muster. He feels Raleigh’s eyes on him the entire time.

When he gets back to the temporary apartment he’s staying at a few blocks away, he walks and feeds Max, who’s moving a lot more slowly than he used to these days, and then he collapses into his bed. He _still_ feels like his face is on fire and he’s so angry that it takes forever for him to fall asleep.

And the first thing he does when he wakes up the next morning is shave that stupid beard.

 

* * *

 

One would think that a week would be enough time to get over drunkenly referring to your adolescent crush as your husband, but one would be wrong.

Chuck keeps himself busy during the week that follows, mostly with Max. If he’d known that his father had planned to remain in Shenzhen for so long, he might not have come -- but he should have guessed really, especially considering that Herc isn’t just visiting Pentecost, but _staying_ with him, which is something that Chuck decidedly does _not_ want to think about. Ever.

But no matter what he distracts himself with, his mind always drifts to Raleigh. He hadn’t even considered that Raleigh would be in the area -- hadn’t given it the briefest of thoughts -- and that makes him feel like an idiot. Of course Raleigh would be there, because he would be wherever Mako was, and it’s no surprise that Mako is sticking close to Pentecost, because let’s face it, the man’s health ain’t getting any better. And because of the fact that Raleigh had been at that exact bar Chuck can’t help but wonder if he and Mako live nearby or something, which is something he, unfortunately, spends way too much time thinking about. Every time he takes Max out on a damn walk, he’s both nervous and hopeful that he’ll catch a glimpse of Raleigh. Pathetic.

When Friday rolls around, Chuck needs a drink. Desperately. He stops and buys himself some cheap beer at the store on the corner, but when he gets back to his apartment, it’s too quiet. Maddeningly so. So what else is he supposed to do but go to the bar again? It’s not that he wants to see Raleigh again and is wishing the blond will be there again, nope, not at all. Raleigh is an asshole and Chuck doesn’t want anything to do with him, period. Or so he tells himself repeatedly on his way as he walks the couple of blocks to the bar, no doubt looking strange to the people he passes because of the way he’s muttering angrily to himself.

It’s still early, but the bar is busy like before, and as Chuck enters, he sweeps his gaze quickly over the patrons. Briefly, he thinks he got lucky -- and he’s a little disappointed, though he’d sooner kill you than admit it -- when he doesn’t see any sign of the Becket clown anywhere. But the thought comes too early, because as the crowd parts a little, Chuck can see through them that Raleigh _is_ there, and is, in fact, sitting at a table with two other people. Chuck recognizes them right away -- Mako, her hair shorter than the last time he’d seen her, and Newt, of all people.

A very small part of Chuck wants to turn around and run back out the door, his curiosity and need to see Raleigh sated, but his stubborn pride refuses it. He strides to the bar, pretending he hasn’t noticed them there, and he takes an empty stool, putting his back to the table. It isn’t until he’s ordering a drink that he realizes he can’t watch Raleigh in the mirror like he had the last time -- the angles are all wrong. But it’s too late to switch seats now, he figures. So he tries to remind himself that he hadn’t come there to see Raleigh, even though it’s one of the biggest lies he’s told himself in a while, and he pretends his only interest is in the booze.

Two beers later, Chuck is caught off guard. By who else?

“Thought that was you up here.”

Chuck flinches as Raleigh slides between his stool and the empty one beside him, and he almost drops his glass in his haste to look as calm as he can. He glances over, pretending not to notice the way Raleigh appraises him, the way his gaze seems to linger on Chuck’s clean-shaven jaw.

“You again?” Chuck sounds arrogant and casual -- thank god.

“Come sit with us,” is Raleigh’s simple, good-humored response. Like they’re old pals.

“ _Us_?”

“Mako, Newt, and me.”

Chuck raises his eyebrows skeptically as he takes a drink of his beer, doesn’t speak, but conveys his surprise that Raleigh’s sitting with Newt with a look. The beer almost goes down the wrong hole, but he’s somehow able to save face and keep himself from choking.

“Come on -- it’s better than sitting over here by yourself, right?” Raleigh grins. And when Chuck just stares at him, Raleigh adds, “Please.”

And it’s so unexpected that Chuck practically sputters. He blinks uselessly at Raleigh for a moment, and Raleigh just smiles at him. He seems so much more laid-back than the Ranger that Chuck had seen at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the weathered guy who’d nearly popped Chuck’s arm out of its socket. He looks more like the rockstar that Chuck had fallen for as an obnoxious and pimply fifteen year old, even despite the years that have passed since then.

And what can Chuck do but give in?

Raleigh’s smile widens.

When they reach the table where Raleigh had been sitting, Mako greets Chuck like she’s genuinely happy to see him, and she even stands to pull him into an embrace. She’s calm and relaxed -- the end of the war looks good on her -- and as she moves back, still smiling warmly, Chuck just tries not to look as bloody awkward as he feels. Tries to ignore the fact that he clearly doesn’t belong over here with her and Raleigh.

Newt doesn’t stand to greet him, is too busy picking at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve, and by way of greeting, he says, “Oh man, you shaved. I was hoping to get to see the gnarly beard Raleigh told us you were working.” And as he finishes, he pantomimes stroking a beard that isn’t there on his own face, before he goes back to that loose thread. There’s an unnatural gray streak on the left side of his head, just above his ear, but besides that, same old short and skinny scientist as always.

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint,” Chuck grumps, dropping into an empty chair across from where Raleigh’s already sat back down, and Newt shrugs, somehow able to throw his entire body into the gesture. He studies Chuck wordlessly for a minute, and then looks away, and that’s when it hits Chuck that if Raleigh had told them about his beard, what else did he tell them? Did he mention Chuck’s stupid comment?

He looks between Newt -- currently chugging his beer -- and Mako -- currently watching with raised eyebrows -- like he’s trying to will himself to magically gain telepathy and be able to read their minds to see just what they know. Mako wouldn’t say anything, he’s sure, but Newt… yeah, Newt would. He’d have a field day with it. Chuck wipes his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans, shifting a little in his seat, and he waits for the joke to come, for the humiliation that it would bring.

But as the night wears on and Mako presses Chuck for any details she might be able to get about how he and his father have been, Chuck starts to think that no joke is coming at all. Newt’s full of jokes, of course, and he turns everything anyone says into a personal anecdote that morphs into a tirade before he forgets what the point he was trying to make is, but he doesn’t say anything that gives off the impression that Raleigh had mentioned anything about Chuck’s ‘husband’ remark.

And whenever Chuck glances at Raleigh, he’s met with a small, roguish smile that makes Chuck’s ears feel hot like he’s some kind of silly schoolboy. It almost seems as if Raleigh’s trying to tell him something with that crooked little smile, but Chuck can’t be bothered to figure it out -- he just wants to make sure he looks away before he can give Raleigh a chance to see what he does to him.

Shortly after Chuck’s arrival, Newt suddenly jumps to his feet and drops his empty glass on the table. As he tears his leather jacket from the back of the chair where he’d had it hanging, he says, “Well, I know you all are gonna miss me, and I really hate to break your hearts, I do, but I gotta jet.”

A few years earlier, Chuck might have scoffed or rolled his eyes. He doesn’t.

“Meeting someone?” Mako asks with a knowing smile.

The one Newt returns is almost proud. “Figure I’ve made him wait long enough.”

Raleigh snorts in amusement. “Only you would have the balls to keep a major black market dealer waiting on you,” he says.

Newt gives a smug, wheezing laugh, windmilling his arms as he puts on his jacket. “Eh, no worries, the guy loves me. What’s he gonna do? All I gotta do is throw in a little German when we’re knocking boots and he’s putty in my hands, the big lug. I can do no wrong.” With a final, prideful grin and quick wave, Newt is gone.

“Do I even want to know?” Chuck asks.

“Probably not,” Raleigh says.

“Definitely not,” Mako says. “Take it from someone who knows _too_ much.”

And surprisingly, Chuck laughs.

Raleigh gets them another round of drinks and Chuck finds himself enjoying the night way more than he could have imagined. Mako and Raleigh treat him like they’re all old friends, like Chuck hadn’t spent their last time together taking out all of his aggression and fear of dying on them, like he hadn’t tried to pick a fight with them every chance he got. And for someone like Chuck, someone who’d not had many friends in his life, it’s nice. And he feels like he can unwind, actually starts to relax around them.

But of course, it has to end sooner or later. It’s Mako who leaves next, mentioning something about someone named Meilin, and Chuck’s too daunted by the idea of being alone with Raleigh again that he can’t even react to her departing hug. On her way by, she kisses Raleigh on the crown of his head, says something in Japanese that vaguely sounds scolding, and with a little nod and smile at Chuck, she walks away.

A silence falls over Chuck and Raleigh, and while Chuck can’t tell how Raleigh’s taking it, it’s extremely awkward for him. He shifts in his seat and plays with his glass of beer, swirling the liquid around in it and staring down into it like it holds all the answers of life. And the whole time, he feels Raleigh’s eyes on him. He’s never liked the way Raleigh looks at him, because it’s like Raleigh has some strange supernatural ability to see into him -- he reads people better than anyone Chuck’s ever known.

Finally, when he can’t take it anymore, it’s Chuck who breaks the silence. “You didn’t tell them?” he asks.

“Tell them what?”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “What I said to get that ignorant shit off your back last week. About you being… my husband. And your pathetic attempts afterwards to take me home -- ringing any bells?”

Raleigh laughs -- a sound and sight that does things to Chuck that he’d rather not think about -- and then he lifts one of his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “I might have mentioned my attempts to Mako. Had to go somewhere to lick my wounds after you shot me down so harshly.”

There’s a gleam of amusement in his eyes, his smile teasing and amicable. And the way he’s looking at Chuck makes Chuck feel kind of tense all over. A wave of heat creeps through his body -- lingering in his neck and ears, and no doubt showing. He tugs at his shirt collar and clears his throat, looking away like he can pretend not to have noticed it.

“I should head out soon,” he blurts out.

“Now? After I finally got you alone?” Raleigh asks.

And Christ, Chuck doesn’t know if it’s the playfulness in Raleigh’s voice or the way Raleigh’s still looking at him, but it seems to make him blush even harder. The week before, he’d been certain that Raleigh had been making fun of him, that him asking Chuck home was his way of deriding him for what he’d said, but now…. Now Chuck’s not so sure. Could he be serious?

He pushes out an arrogant snort though, downing the rest of his beer hastily. “Very funny. Yep, never gonna get old, you making fun of me for that,” he says, and he makes a move to stand up.

Quickly, Raleigh reaches across the table and grabs Chuck’s left hand, covering it with his own. Chuck flinches, but he fights the urge to jerk his hand away and remains still. An electric jolt seems to shoot up his arm at the touch, and he bites the inside of his cheek so as to try and neutralize his expression. Raleigh’s fingers play at the steel band around Chuck’s finger, the ring he’d used to ward off Raleigh’s admirer the week before, and he looks into Chuck’s eyes intently.

“I’m not kidding around,” he says.

Chuck swallows hard, wishing he could tear his gaze away but finding himself unable to.

“Come home with me tonight,” Raleigh goes on. And his fingers are still playing at Chuck’s ring, which is more than a distracting feeling -- one that makes Chuck’s mouth feel like it’s full of cotton, and makes his head swim with too many thoughts at once. “Don’t make me beg.”

Chuck can do nothing but stare at Raleigh. He wants to ask why, to see what the hell had brought this on -- is Raleigh really interested or is he just curious about Chuck’s feelings on the matter? But he knows that if he says anything like that, he’ll just look inexperienced, maybe even pathetic, and he refuses to let himself be shown in such a light. His self-defense mechanism kicks in on hyperdrive, and he closes off, pulling his hand out from under Raleigh’s.

“I can’t leave Max on his own,” he says shortly, and he stands.

Raleigh’s face falls, just as Chuck starts to turn away, and that’s what is Chuck’s undoing. Had he not looked at Raleigh as he stood, had he not caught sight of the crestfallen expression of the older man’s obvious disappointment, he could have walked away and been done with it all. But that look… Raleigh _was_ being serious. He wants them to leave together. And Chuck doesn’t know how to react to that.

He stops, considers for what feels like an eternity, and he says over his shoulder, “Reckon you could always come to my place….”

And when he looks back at Raleigh, the smile’s not just back, but bigger than it’d been before.

 

* * *

 

When they get to Chuck’s place, Chuck isn’t as embarrassed as he thought he might be. The apartment is bare, of course, and it almost looks like no one’s even living in it, because it’s only temporary, of course. And because he’s not planning on staying much longer, Chuck sees no point in decorating or making it more comfortable. But Raleigh’s presence alone seems to make it instantly better -- it’s like he lights up the room and makes it feel warmer and more like home.

When Chuck has this thought, he inwardly curses himself for how bad he’s got it for the other man.

There’s no small talk -- apart from Raleigh saying hi to Max when they walk in. He gives the dog a good rubdown, and just as Chuck’s getting ready to offer one of the cheap beers he’d picked up earlier in the day, Raleigh’s leading him through the apartment, seeking out Chuck’s bedroom. The minute they pass through the door -- pushing it shut so they aren’t interrupted by a well-intentioned but nosy as hell Max -- Raleigh is on him.

He kisses Chuck slowly, yet boldly -- he’s confident in his actions, but not greedy or arrogant. It’s a surprisingly meaningful kiss, delivered like Raleigh intends to savor every moment of it, and Chuck feels it all over, from his head right down to his feet. It’s not his first kiss by a longshot, but it might as well be. It’s as though Raleigh wants to make sure that Chuck will never be kissed like this again. And his lips are soft, but they press against Chuck’s firmly and determined.

Chuck grabs Raleigh’s jacket and shoves it back, pushing it down over his broad shoulders, and Raleigh, not even breaking the kiss as the jacket falls to the floor, starts backing Chuck up towards the bed. Chuck’s hands slide down Raleigh’s front, smoothing over his chest, and he hesitates, pulling away just slightly.

“What?” Raleigh asks. His lips glisten slightly, and there’s a warm flush to his cheeks.

Chuck makes a noise in his throat, shaking his head. He glances down at Raleigh’s gray T-shirt, and he plucks at it. “Reckon I’m just now realizing you aren’t wearing one of your stupid sweaters.”

Raleigh laughs. It’s a rich sound that moves through Chuck like an electric current, and Raleigh shrugs. “Can’t wear sweaters all the time,” he says.

And Chuck is inwardly a little disappointed, for some reason. But aloud, he says, “Whatever. I mean, if you ask me, at the moment, you’re wearing too many clothes anyway.”

He helps Raleigh out of his shirt, tossing it aside, and then he let his gaze rove over the older man’s torso. In the years since the last Shatterdome had closed, Raleigh has clearly lost some of his muscle tone but none of his strength -- he has the exact kind of body one might expect for a former Jaeger pilot who’d been out of the job for a number of years. He’s fit and lean, but softer than the hardened fighter he’d been before…. Not that Chuck wants to test that theory again any time soon.

The scars are a lot more faint these days, and it seems strange to look at them now after so long of not being anywhere near the thing that had caused them -- the circuitry suit. It’s like those pink lines are almost foreign now, an old language quickly on its way to becoming lost, and Chuck lets his fingertips ghost along them. His touch makes Raleigh shiver, a little laugh leaving him, and he grabs Chuck’s hands.

“Come here,” he says, and he pulls Chuck in for another kiss.

This time, it’s hard; his lips moving against Chuck’s with just a little more urgency. His hands go to the bottom of Chuck’s shirt, and he’s surprisingly rough as he jerks it upwards over Chuck’s head, halting the kiss for only a moment -- and Chuck likes that. He flashes a quick grin, maybe a little playful, and there’s just enough time to see it mirrored on Raleigh’s face before the older man’s mouth is crushing against his again.

Raleigh’s hands are _everywhere_. It’s like he doesn’t know what part of Chuck he wants to touch first, like he thinks this is the only chance he’ll ever get, and that he has to do it quickly before Chuck changes his mind. While his tongue slides into Chuck’s mouth, his hands map out Chuck’s torso, fingers pressing against his skin like Chuck’s body is made of braille that he means to memorize. Chuck shapes his lips around Raleigh’s tongue, sucking gently, and a noise of pleasured surprise wells in Raleigh’s chest. In response -- or retaliation -- he trails one of his hands down to Chuck’s crotch, and he grabs him abruptly through his jeans.

Chuck can’t help but to pull back and utter a breathy curse.

Raleigh seems pleased. “Been thinking about this all week,” he says, like he’s confiding some big secret in Chuck. And as he speaks, he squeezes Chuck, stirring him.

Chuck snorts. “A week? Try a couple of years.”

And grabbing Raleigh’s shoulders, he turns and shoves Raleigh towards the bed. Raleigh laughs again, but the sound cuts off as the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he falls into a seated position. He watches as Chuck nears him slowly, his blue eyes darkened with lust and gleaming with an amusement that’s been there the entire night. At the risk of feeling like a sap, Chuck has to stop and take a moment to think about the fact that his teenagehood crush is in his bedroom, shirtless and sporting a bulge in his pants. A bulge that Chuck can’t help but feel he’s responsible for. It all seems almost too good to be true.

“So you planning on keeping me waiting much longer?” Raleigh asks playfully. To punctuate his question, he grabs himself through his pants.

If Chuck hadn’t already been hard, the sight of that sure as hell would have done the trick. And it’s like Raleigh knows the exact power he has over Chuck -- his devilish grin widens.

Chuck closes the gap between them, and as he does so, he undoes the fly of his jeans, keeping his gaze locked on Raleigh’s. He doesn’t pull them down, however, and when he reaches the older man, he puts his hands in Raleigh’s hair, combing his fingers through the blond locks he’d been so fond of as a kid. It’s soft and thick, just like it looks, and Raleigh leans into his touch like a cat, his eyes still on Chuck’s face with that smug grin of his.

Chuck raises his eyebrows, his hands moving to rest on his own hips. And Raleigh takes the hint.

He reaches forward, and he hooks his fingers into both the loose waistband of Chuck’s jeans and his boxer briefs, and he pulls them down just enough for Chuck’s cock to be free of it’s confines, mostly hard but still getting there. Then, without any warning, he wraps his fingers around the base of Chuck’s shaft. His grasp is firm, hand calloused and warm, and Chuck takes a slow, deep breath.

Plenty of people have touched him -- he’s no virgin. But this is different. This is Raleigh. Years may have passed since they’d been together at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, but Chuck’s silly crush has returned stronger than ever.

Raleigh doesn’t waste any time in starting to stroke Chuck, movements slow and easy, making him grow stiffer in his hand. He pulls his gaze away from Chuck’s so that he can look down and watch what he’s doing, but Chuck keeps his eyes on Raleigh’s face, studies him like he’s an artist and Raleigh’s the subject. Whether it’s the shadowed interior of his bedroom or not, he can now see the lines in his face that give away Raleigh’s age, though they take nothing away from his impossible good looks -- if anything, they add to them. And were his hand not currently working magic along Chuck’s cock, squeezing on every languid upstroke, Chuck might have cursed him for being so bloody perfect.

And then, suddenly, Raleigh’s leaning forward and taking Chuck into his mouth, like there’s no thought at all to the action, like they do this all the time. It feels natural, it feels right. And it feels good, of course. The wet warmth of Raleigh’s mouth makes Chuck’s breath shudder out of him, and one of his hands returns to Raleigh’s hair, fingers curling into it. Raleigh sucks on the head of his cock lightly, tongue playing at the shape of it, and Chuck bites back a groan -- or, he attempts to at least, because in a flash, Raleigh takes in more of him, sucking even as he flattens his tongue to make room for him. And that groan frees itself from Chuck, low and sighing.

Raleigh doesn’t pay attention to him -- is focused solely on the task at hand, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him. His eyes close as he starts to find a rhythm, swallowing as much of Chuck’s length as he can with each bob downward, and as he brings his head back up, his hand follows closely behind his retreating mouth, continuing to stroke with motions made easier by his own saliva. Chuck’s own eyelids flutter as little sparks of pleasure start to ignite in his gut, spreading out like tiny spiderwebs as Raleigh moves, his lips shaping perfectly around Chuck’s cock like they were made for it.

He twists Raleigh’s hair around his fingers, the motion stupidly affectionate for what they’re doing, and Raleigh’s eyes open, lifting to meet Chuck’s. Chuck groans again -- he can’t help it, seeing Raleigh’s mouth on him like this, while he’s looking up at him with those intense and piercing eyes; it’s like all of his teenage wet dreams come to life. And just before Raleigh closes his eyes again, Chuck’s able to see the smile in his gaze, like he can read Chuck’s mind.

Raleigh’s other hand, which had been resting against Chuck’s thigh, slides to Chuck’s groin, and he cups Chuck’s balls. A jolt of white hot pleasure goes through him at the softest touch, and he jerks forward a little before he can stop himself -- it’s like Raleigh had known his weak spot, had zeroed in on it like he’d been well aware of what it would do to him. If so, at least the joke’s on him, because he has to pull back quickly, or else be choked as Chuck thrusts into his mouth.

He flashes a boyish grin up at Chuck, and teases, “Sensitive?”

“Blow me,” Chuck huffs indignantly.

It was an unintentional remark, but their gazes meet and they laugh. Chuck’s laugh is more of a hoarse bark than anything, nothing compared to the rich, genuine sound of Raleigh’s, but it feels good. Not at all embarrassing or awkward, like he’d expected this evening to go.

He curses as Raleigh rolls his balls in his fingers, his hips bucking again, and as Raleigh laughs at him once more, Chuck reaches down and grabs both of Raleigh’s wrists. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your fun,” he says. And he shoves Raleigh back onto the bed, throwing his hands away playfully.

“No, but I will,” Raleigh says cheekily, and he shifts until he’s laying straight in the bed, head against the pillows. As he undoes his own pants, he looks around Chuck’s room with mild interest, and his gaze lingers on the nightstand. “I take it you’re prepared,” he says, lifting his hips so he can wriggle out of his jeans.

Chuck grabs the legs of the pants and helps to pull them off all of the way, throwing them aside -- and of bloody course Raleigh would go commando. His hard cock rests against his stomach, the tip of it already glistening with precome, and Chuck quickly shucks his pants and underwear away entirely before he climbs into the bed to join the older man, the both of them finally naked.

Raleigh twists and reaches for the nightstand, digging a hand into the top drawer like he owns the place. Another time, Chuck might have snapped at him to mind his own business, but he doesn’t care at the moment -- he’s too elated by the prospect of sex with Raleigh. He settles over top of him, leaning in to kiss and bite at his neck, and he glances up only briefly as Raleigh pulls out what he’d been searching for -- an open box of condoms and a small tube of lubricant.

“Been getting busy since you got here?” Raleigh asks, amused.

Chuck grunts noncommittally against Raleigh’s neck, then sits up a little to give a dismissive eyeroll. “Was bored,” he says. Could add that he’s a lonely son of a bitch, that ever since the war had ended he’d slept around and around but never allowed himself to get close to anyone because they weren’t _him_ , or at least, what he’d built him up to be in his mind. Could, but doesn’t.

It’s like Raleigh knows what he’s getting at however, and his expression softens just slightly. He leans up and presses his mouth to Chuck’s, giving him a deep kiss, slow and meticulous. Chuck can taste himself on Raleigh’s lips, and a surge of smugness goes through him at it. But then he turns his head to end the kiss, and he presses a hand against the center of Raleigh’s chest, shoving him back down to lay flat on his back.

Raleigh grins. He drops the condoms and lube on the bed beside him, and he slides both of his hands up Chuck’s chest, and then back down and to his waist. Chuck straddles Raleigh’s thighs, pressing his cock against Raleigh’s, and he settles one of his arms across Raleigh’s chest as Raleigh takes in a quick breath at the contact between their dicks. He still looks smug. So Chuck kisses him again.

He starts to roll his hips, grinding against Raleigh, and Raleigh’s fingertips dig into his hipbones. It’s not very graceful, he ruts against Raleigh like a sex-starved animal, and the kiss is messy and lazy -- mostly lips, with a little teeth. But Raleigh moves with him, presses up to meet the thrusts, rotating his hips so that their cocks rub together in just the right way, and he pulls Chuck’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it. A sound rumbles from Chuck’s chest at the sensation, and one of Raleigh’s hands cups Chuck’s ass, squeezing it like he’s praising Chuck for the noise.

Raleigh swiftly overpowers Chuck. Takes the initiative and rolls Chuck over onto his back, going with him and fitting easily between his legs. And Chuck’s not at all disappointed by the change of pace, except for the fact that there’s something….

They both realize at the same time that Raleigh’s rolled Chuck over onto the box of condoms, and they laugh again. Chuck lifts up and reaches beneath him, pulling out both the bottle of lube and the crushed box, and Raleigh’s still laughing a little as he takes them from him. Relaxing back against the pillow, Chuck watches silently as Raleigh pulls out a single condom and tears the wrapper with his teeth.

“Reckon you could speed it up there?” he asks, though he’s not nearly as exasperated as he sounds.

And Raleigh knows it. “Some things are better if you’re patient,” he says with a grin.

“I don’t care much for wanting it ‘better,’ I just want it _now_.”

After rolling the condom on -- and giving himself a few short pumps, the sight of which makes Chuck practically tingle with how badly he wants the other man -- Raleigh grabs the lube and inches closer. Chuck brings his knees up, spreading his legs more and propping his hips up, and he keeps his gaze on Raleigh’s face as Raleigh coats his fingers in the lubricant. Though he works quickly, efficiently, it’s not without the sort of gentleness one could expect from Raleigh Becket as he prepares Chuck, thrusting his fingers in and out of him to stretch him out. His jaw is set in concentration, and he glances at Chuck’s face every few moments to make sure he’s not hurting him. Though Chuck blinks a few times at the first few thrusts, wincing a little as he gets used to the feeling, the discomfort doesn’t last, and he exhales something that sounds much like a contented sigh.

Raleigh takes that as his sign to go on. He squeezes out more lube and this time applies a generous amount to Chuck’s ass, slicking it up more, and then he spreads a layer onto his cock. Capping the bottle and tossing it aside, Raleigh moves closer, one of his hands going to the mattress next to Chuck’s waist, and his other guiding his cock to Chuck’s ass. His eyes bore into Chuck’s face as the tip of his cock presses against his entrance, and Chuck tries to keep his expression as passive as he can -- mostly out of pride, because damnit does Raleigh have to stare at him like that? Like Chuck’s the only thing in the world that he can see?

He reminds himself to relax as Raleigh pushes into him, closes his eyes and turns his head as he bites back an unintentional noise of distress. Raleigh doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, and the feeling of being so very full of him is physically uncomfortable, but mentally gratifying. Chuck swallows against his dry throat and takes a few deep breaths through his nose. And Raleigh -- his other hand has settled on the other side of Chuck, palm flat against the mattress -- leans in and buries his face in Chuck’s neck. His mouth is warm and soft against Chuck’s skin, lips playing at his pulse point and sending a shiver down Chuck’s spine, and it’s enough.

“Yeah?” Raleigh asks by way of making sure Chuck’s ready.

Chuck nods.

So Raleigh starts to move.

It’s relaxed, like Raleigh’s kisses, like he wants to draw out every little movement so as to savor it all the more. He pulls back until it’s just the head of his cock inside of Chuck, and then he drives forward, slow and deep. Chuck’s hands are at first on Raleigh’s wrists, gripping tight, but then he slides them up Raleigh’s arms and over his shoulders, stopping when he gets to Raleigh’s face. He cups the side of Raleigh’s neck with one hand, let’s the other go to Raleigh’s jaw.

He holds Raleigh’s face in place as the older man thrusts into him, and their eyes remain locked throughout. Raleigh’s eyelids flutter, a soft sound escaping his lips, but when Chuck very lightly squeezes Raleigh’s neck, Raleigh opens his eyes once more and fixes them on Chuck’s. Again, Chuck is struck by how natural this all seems -- it’s like they do this all the time, they have no trouble communicating with just touching and looking.

And fuck, it feels good.

Raleigh lowers himself to his elbows, placing them on either side of Chuck’s head, and he dips in so that he can kiss Chuck again, effectively breaking the staring contest. His movements pick up speed, hips rolling forward with ease and expertise, and Chuck lets his hands glide down Raleigh’s sides to his hips, where he squeezes and pulls on them as though to urge him to move faster. When Raleigh shifts, puts his weight onto one arm, he snakes his free hand between their bodies and starts to stroke Chuck again, much faster than he had before.

A high-pitched sound tears itself from Chuck’s throat, his head falling back against the pillow, and Raleigh takes advantage of the moment -- bites at the spot just under Chuck’s chin, teases the area with his tongue afterwards. He’s soon thrusting into Chuck and pumping him at the same pace, and it’s almost a little overwhelming -- Chuck just lays there, groaning and panting wantanly.

But then, abruptly, Raleigh’s hand is gone. Chuck protests -- says something like, ‘No, don’t stop,’ though he’s not sure if he actually forms any words or if he just whines unintelligibly. But with a moan, Raleigh rears back, propping himself up on his hands again, and his head is thrown back, his eyes closed tight as he thrusts. And Chuck realizes he’s about to come.

He trails his own hand down to his cock and picks up where Raleigh left off, starting to stroke himself at a quick and uneven pace to try and catch up. All of a sudden, Raleigh grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away, and Chuck hisses out a curse.

“No,” Raleigh says. “Wait.”

“ _You_ wait,” Chuck says breathlessly, proving that he’s the same immature shit as before.

Raleigh flashes a quick grin before he groans again, hips jerking forward like he’s losing control of them. He grabs both of Chuck’s arms by the wrist, pinning them against the mattress on either side of Chuck and putting his weight on them as he rocks against him. His movements become shorter and rougher, and he’s sweating and grunting with his effort, and Chuck could just _kill_ him.

He’s set the moment up and has given Chuck this beautiful fucking sight of him, glistening and with his neck veins popping, face twisted up into an expression of pure bliss, and Chuck can’t even touch himself to it?

Raleigh’s movements falter very slightly, a sharp curse of his own leaving him, and then he gives a few final deep thrusts into him, one of which hitting that secret spot inside of Chuck that makes him see stars -- just not enough to make him come. So as Raleigh’s body goes stiff, his moan seeming deafeningly loud in the small room, Chuck whines again, feeling left out, frustrated, and so damn close.

But then Raleigh’s moving. He suddenly pulls out of Chuck and slides down, lowering himself between Chuck’s legs. One of his hands goes to the base of Chuck’s cock, and then his mouth is on him once again. And okay, maybe Chuck’s not so frustrated anymore. He sighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress for more, and Raleigh works quickly, swallowing Chuck’s entire length like his life depends on it. He does what he did before -- as he sucks Chuck, works his cock in and out of his mouth, he keeps his hand following close behind, stroking along with it.

And then his other hand finds that stupidly sensitive part of Chuck again. He grabs Chuck’s balls and squeezes them, and Chuck’s whole body goes tight, like a piece of rope pulled taut. His hands both snap to Raleigh’s hair, fingers burying themselves in it and pulling harshly, and Raleigh makes a low moaning sound around Chuck’s cock, a sound that seems to vibrate through his whole body. When he tightens his grasp on Chuck’s balls again, that’s all it takes.

“ _Raleigh_!” is all he’s able to get out in time to warn the older man.

He arches against the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut against the blooming colors in his vision, and Raleigh pulls him from his mouth just in time. He pumps Chuck’s dick hard and fast, and as Chuck comes, it paints stripes against his abdomen. Raleigh leans in to lick at the base of Chuck’s cock like he thinks he can coax more of it out of him, hand still working until Chuck’s completely dry.

When Chuck collapses, breathless and sweaty, his climax ebbing away, Raleigh draws himself up to his knees and flashes a broad, rather proud grin down at him. “Some things are better if you’re patient,” he says cheekily, repeating his earlier words.

Chuck smirks impishly. “Blow me,” he says.

And with the way Raleigh beams down at him, you’d think he’d just told the guy that Christmas was coming early this year.

After Raleigh throws the condom away, they tidy up -- that is to say, they make sure they won’t wake up sticking to the bedsheets the next morning -- and then Chuck crumples into bed, wholly spent and exhausted, feeling only the sort of fatigue one feels after a good romp. As Raleigh climbs beneath the blanket beside him, there’s a sudden scratching noise at the door.

“Should I --?” Raleigh starts.

“Leave him -- shut up and he’ll go away,” Chuck says, stifling a yawn. And sure enough, after a second, the scratching stops. Chuck pauses and then glances sideways at Raleigh. “He doesn’t like it in here anyway, he likes being able to watch the front door and make sure no one gets in that he doesn’t know about. It’s just that when he hears a ruckus in here, he thinks he’s missing something, the nosy brat.”

“You make a lot of ruckuses in here, then?” Raleigh asks, grinning.

“You jealous?” Chuck counters.

“Maybe.”

And just before Chuck passes out, with Raleigh’s heat beside him and filling the room, Chuck can’t really remember ever feeling this happy and serene before, at least not for a long, long time. Falling asleep next to someone has to be the most satisfying feeling in the world, and he thinks he’d quite like to see what waking up next to that same someone feels like too.

 

* * *

 

He’s an idiot. A colossal drongo with shit for brains.

The bed is empty when he wakes the next morning. He sits straight up, blinking in the gray light seeping in through the blinds, and he looks to his right where the blankets have been rearranged and neatened, like Raleigh had attempted to hide he was ever there in the first place. _Bastard_. Then again, he reckons he can’t really blame Raleigh -- it’s not like they’d confessed undying love to one another the night before. They’d flirted briefly and then come back here and fallen into bed with barely a word to each other, apart from murmurs in the heat of the moment. In reality, it was nothing.

_You got picked up at a bar_ , a sarcastic voice in Chuck’s mind says, _What did you expect?_

He throws himself back against the pillows, cursing aloud and trying to make that voice go away. After a few minutes, he forces himself to get up -- as much as he’d like to lay there and wallow, he can’t. He has to take a shower, but not before he takes care of Max, who’s being awfully quiet this morning, he thinks, considering that normally if he has his bedroom door shut for too long, Max stands on the other side and cries and whines like the big baby that he is if Chuck sleeps too late.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he makes his way out into the quiet living room, and then he hesitates. Because by now, Max would have come to see him. He puts his hands on his hips and turns around in place, looking for his dog, and he’s just about to call out for him when he hears something at the front door.

Raleigh walks in, leash in one hand and a tray of two coffees in the other. And Chuck’s so surprised that he can only stand there, gaping at him. Raleigh flashes him a bright grin -- almost too bright to see first thing in the morning -- and he bends down to unhook Max from the leash. The bulldog bounds at Chuck as fast as his stubby legs will carry him in his old age, his whole body wiggling with how hard he’s wagging his tail, but Chuck’s only able to give him a quick pat on the head before Max makes a noise like a _hmph_ and dodders away to the kitchen for his water bowl.

“Hey. I was hoping to get back before you got up. Hope you don’t mind me taking Max -- I don’t get much sleep most days, and I could hear him out in the hallway. Seemed restless. Thought it couldn’t hurt to take him on a walk since it was my fault he didn’t get one last night,” Raleigh says, and he looks a little sheepish, ducking his head slightly.

Chuck opens his mouth, but then just shakes his head. Finally, he manages to say, “Made yourself useful then, yeah?”

With a huff of laughter, Raleigh drops Max’s leash onto the small table by the door, where Chuck keeps his keys, and then he holds up the drink tray. “Found a coffee shop on the way. Was better than trying to navigate my way through your kitchen on my first morning here.”

He moves towards Chuck, pulling one of the cups free, and as he hands it off to him, Chuck remembers his manners and thanks him for it. Then he says, “Didn’t really expect this.”

“Did you think I’d left?” Raleigh asks, with an annoyingly smug smirk like he knows exactly how much Chuck had been beating himself up over waking up alone.

“What else was I supposed to think? Was a little relieved, actually, to get you out of here without having to say anything,” Chuck says, trying to save face.

“Sure you were. But you’re gonna have to work a little harder to get rid of your _husband_ ,” Raleigh retorts, not having any of it.

That creeping heat that only Raleigh can cause starts to spread up Chuck’s neck, and he frowns. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance, Hansen.”

“That bloody figures.”

* * *

 

_“It doesn’t make a bit of difference if you start what you can’t finish._  
 _Every story needs an ending, after all.”_  
 _\-- “Can’t Finish What You Started,” Motion City Soundtrack_

 

* * *


End file.
